Curiosity Killed the Panther
by DBT the mediocre
Summary: T'Challa calls in a favour from a friend to help the two soldiers of the past. Though curiosity can be a burden to those around her, it can also represent hope for the person she's meant to help. Or maybe it was the other way around. Post Civil War; spoilers ahead. Bucky/OC friendship; romance if you squint.
1. 1 - A Call

_note: Black Panther was amazing in Civil War. I thought it would be interesting to write a story about his life through the eyes of another. I've always loved how Wakanda was depicted in the comics, so there'll be hints of African culture in here._

 _The motivation behind the story is basically me being hella angry that Bucky's life isn't fair and he has to go through so much suffering. I think he needs a friend more than a romantic partner, which is why this story is more friendship than romance. Steve's a great friend, but honestly, I think he's finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that Bucky isn't the Bucky he knew before. Bucky needs someone who he meets in the present, not someone from his past._

 _There are some Easter Eggs scattered throughout the story so keep your eyes out for them._

 _Spoilers for CA:CW. Don't proceed until you've watched the movie+first bonus scene._

* * *

 _Chapter 1 - Present_

The phone rings loudly.

In my sleep-induced stupor, I claw at the table by the bed, desperate to kill the shrill sound emanating from that blasted piece of technology.

I nearly reject the call, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I answer.

"Hello?" I don't bother to hide the fact that I'm exhausted.

"D'Taya?"

I freeze. I don't know who I'm expecting, but it's certainly not him. "T'Challa." I breathe his name, almost like a prayer.

"I'm sorry for calling you at this hour, but I need your help. It's important."

I smile into the receiver and push myself up to a sitting position. I'm officially interested. It's not often the Prince of Wakanda asks for help. "Go on."

"There are some people with me who are injured. I need you to take a look at them."

I fall silent, a little disappointed. I was expecting something far bigger and more exhilarating. But he's just asking me to do my job. Well, ex-job. "You can't just bring them to the hospital?"

"No, I can't."

"And you can't tell me why."

"Sorry." I can tell he isn't, really.

I sigh. "Fine." It's hard to deny a favour from the king-to-be, even if he is being cryptic about the whole situation. I push the blanket off my body and fumble for the light switch. "I'll get my medical equipment set up. Where do I meet you?"

"There should be a helicopter on your roof. The coordinates are already set."

"Coordinates of where, exactly?" I would have sounded far more demanding, if I wasn't quite so sleep-deprived.

"It's hard to explain."

I roll my eyes in annoyance. He knows how much I hate having information kept from me. "T'Challa, what are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything, but things are a little complicated. I'll explain everything when you get here, I promise." I hear him sigh deeply. "Thank you." With that, the call dies.

Damn you, T'Challa. I throw my phone down and get changed into a simple blue dress. I'm frustrated and sleep-deprived, and that's not exactly a good state to be in at four in the morning. I grab my equipment and storm out the door.

Just like T'Challa said, there was a helicopter parked on my roof. I open the helicopter door and get in, closing the door behind me. It isn't my first time in a helicopter, and I know enough to be able to turn on the engine. Autopilot does the rest, getting the vehicle up in the air and flying across the city to an unknown location.

I try to stay awake during the ride, but I can't help myself. Exhaustion trumps exhilaration this time.

The next thing I see are tall trees in a thick and dense jungle. I can only assume that I'm still in Wakanda, and the large Black Panther statue is confirmation of that. Only Wakandans worship the Panther God, after all.

I grab my things and open the helicopter door. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. What time is it? And where am I? It looks like some sort of facility, though I can't tell because the helicopter landing pad is on the roof.

Then there he is, leaning against the door into the building. "T'Challa," I stride up to him and embrace him. He kisses me lightly on the cheek to greet me.

"Thank you for coming."

"Anything for you."

T'Challa smiles, but there's something sullen about it. "Come in. I'll show you around." He's acting stiff, and there's a permanent frown on his face.

Of course. How insensitive a friend I am. "T'Challa, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. About your father. He was a good man."

He looks away. "Thank you." I notice how his shoulders slump down and his gaze falls to the ground. "What happened in Vienna…shouldn't have happened."

It must be hard for him. The wound is still fresh, and there hasn't even been a funeral yet. Everything is on hold until he returns home, and then there's the coronation to plan. Not to mention, the circumstances of his father's death…

"What do you think of this place?" T'Challa asks. I know he's only asking to change the topic, and even though I want to know what he's thinking and feeling, it wouldn't be fair to him for me to pry.

"Interesting," I reply.

"It's to train as Black Panther. There's a workshop to make my suit, and a gym to practice fighting. It's pretty neat."

I nod to show that I'm listening, but the melancholy in the air makes it hard to sustain a decent conversation. "Where are the patients?"

"This way."

We turn a corner and enter the medical area, evident from the various medical equipment. I see ultrasound machines, hydrocollator units, autoclaves – practically everything a doctor needs. There's even a cryochamber here.

"Impressive," I comment, looking around. It's amazing, really. There's more equipment here than at the hospital I work at. Well, used to work at.

It's then that I see other people in here. My patients, presumably. There are two men – white men. I try not to stare at the unfamiliar pale skin. Living in an isolated country, Wakandans aren't exposed to people of the outside world, so this is the first time I'm seeing the pale-skinned.

I tell them apart from their hair colour. The first one has golden hair and clear blue eyes, just like the stories I've heard about westerners. The other has shoulder-length black hair, thin and stringy unlike the people here. This one has a broken metal arm, which I immediately assume I'm here to fix.

"Captain, Sergeant. This is the doctor I was telling you about." T'Challa is the one who is speaking, but he is speaking in English, no longer our native tongue. "D'Taya, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes."

The golden-haired one stands. I suddenly feel self-conscious, with my dark skin and traditional blue dress. The women probably look very different from where they come from. "Ma'am," he says, extending his arm. "Steve Rogers. Thank you for helping."

I slip my hand into his. "It is my pleasure." I haven't spoken English since I graduated from university. The language sounds strange coming out from my lips.

I glance behind him to see the dark-haired one. He doesn't move, and for a moment I wonder if he's real. Then he looks up at me, but doesn't see anything. There is something more that I can't fix with him. He greets me with a nod and the feeling of insecurity ebbs. I don't quite know why. It seems to me that he is too preoccupied with the thoughts in his own head to judge me. Maybe he is judging something else. Maybe himself.

T'Challa coughs to break the awkward silence. He looks at my expectantly and I nod. I move to the table and put my things down. I look around the lab to see what I can work with. There's literally everything I need in here. I pick up a white coat from the corner and put it on, then I turn to face the two men. "Let us begin."

* * *

 _It's my first time writing something like this so reviews would be awesome to help me improve+provide you guys with a more enjoyable read._

 _Updates should be twice a week (Saturday and Wednesday nights in my timezone); see you guys then!_

 _-DBT_


	2. 2 - A Promise

_note: Thank you all for your support for this story - it's really heartening to get a positive response from readers so I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far._

* * *

 _Chapter 2 - Past_

I was only a child when I decided that I would be a hero.

It was my first trip to a hospital – or the first one I could remember. Gogo had a problem with her heart, so we took her there; all four of us – Baba, Mama, D'Tonkwo and me.

I can't remember much, only that there was a lot of waiting. We arrived at the hospital at night, way past my bedtime. Mama told me to stay home, but I didn't want to. I screamed and I yelled that I wanted to go along. I wanted to be there for Gogo, because she wherever she was going, she was scared of it. I thought if I went with her, she'd be less scared.

Baba and Mama finally let me come along, and I brought a pillow so I could sleep there. Baby D'Tonkwo went along too, in Mama's arms. I was really tired when we got there, but I wouldn't show it. I was strong and I could stay awake. I was doing it for Gogo, I told myself.

I gave her one last hug before she went in with the white jacket people. Her hands were freezing cold, so I breathed on them to make them warmer. "Don't be scared, Gogo. We'll be waiting here for you when you come out."

She smiled at me and kissed the top of my head. "I'll be out soon. Pray that the Panther God will protect me." I nodded and grinned. The Panther God listened to our prayers; Gogo would be fine.

Then I lay down in one of the chairs, put my pillow under my head and went to sleep. I was really tired and wanted to sleep, but I couldn't. The lights were too bright, the place too noisy and the chairs too uncomfortable. I missed my bed and my room back at home.

I tried to look like I was sleeping so I wouldn't worry Baba and Mama. I could tell they were worried about Gogo. When they weren't looking, I'd peek through my eyelids and watch them. They couldn't sleep too, especially since they had to take care of D'Tonkwo. They took turns to hold him.

The sun finally rose after a very long night, and when the orange rays hit my face I sat up in the seat. I grabbed my pillow and hugged it as I let out a huge yawn. Baba was holding D'Tonkwo, so Mama was the one to come and sit next to me.

"How was your sleep, D'Taya?" she asked.

"It was okay." I yawned again and leaned on her. "How long has Gogo been in there?"

Mama looked up at the clock. "About ten hours."

"When is she coming out?"

She combed my hair down and slung her arm around me protectively. "Soon, baby. Don't worry about her. She's a strong one."

I wanted to ask how long 'soon' was, but Mama looked so tired that I didn't want to make her talk. I just stayed where I was and stared at the white walls. I wasn't worried, like Mama thought. There wasn't anything to be worried about. I just wanted to go home.

Baba went to go buy food and Mama was still tired, so I took care of D'Tonkwo for a while. He was heavy. He lay down on my legs because I couldn't carry him. He was well-behaved, sleeping peacefully with his tiny eyes closed and tiny hands at his sides. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

I started singing the lullaby Mama always sang to me. I sang it over and over, until Baba came back and until Mama woke up. And then, I looked up and saw her.

D'Tonkwo was still in my lap and I couldn't stand up, so I cried out. "Gogo!" There she was, in a chair with wheels, being pushed by one of the men in a white jacket. The man wore something to cover his face and only his eyes could be seen. I thought that made him look quite scary, but from his eyes it looked like he was smiling.

The moment Mama took D'Tonkwo from me, I hopped out of my seat and ran to her. I wanted to jump into her arms but Baba told me that she would be weak because she was sick, so I just stood by her side. "Gogo, you're back! I knew you would because you said so, and Baba and Mama told me you would too. They told me not to worry about you because you were strong."

Gogo laughed and ruffled my hair. "That's right; I told you I would be here, didn't I?" She looked even more tired than Mama. She glanced up to see Baba and Mama walking over.

I sat down and helped to carry D'Tonkwo while Baba and Mama talked to Gogo and the man in the white jacket. They kept using such big words I didn't understand. I only understood 'sick' and 'cancer' and 'cure'. From what I gathered, it sounded like Gogo was all better.

I tried to look like I wasn't listening in on their conversation, so when Baba and Mama turned to me I started singing to D'Tonkwo. I couldn't sing and listen at the same time, after all.

"Come on, D'Taya," Baba said. He was pushing Gogo on the chair. Mama picked D'Tonkwo up from me and carried him.

I jumped up from my seat. "Where are we going?"

"We're going home."

It wasn't until we were sitting down in the living room that I really talked to her. It was nighttime, and I was supposed to go to bed soon. Gogo was carrying D'Tonkwo and he was drooling on her, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Gogo?" I asked, looking up at her. Even in her wheelchair, she was taller than me.

"Yes, child?"

"Who was that man just now?"

"Which man?"

"The one in the hospital. With the white jacket."

"Oh, that was Doctor W'Nabi. He was the one who healed me."

"Healed you?"

Gogo nodded. "I was sick, so he took out the parts of me that were making me sick."

I nodded, piecing together the information to form a complete and clear picture. "So that means…Doctor W'Nabi is a hero?"

Gogo smiled. "Yes, exactly like a hero."

I grinned and jumped up excitedly. I knew it! I knew there were other heroes in the world than King T'Chaka. The white jacket probably gave him his powers. And powers of healing – that was the greatest power I could think of. "I want to be like him! I want to be a hero too!"

"But being a hero is tough work. It's not easy, you know," Gogo warned, but she was still smiling.

I nodded. "I know. But I want to be a hero someday!"

"Why?"

"So I can save people!"

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow at me. "What kind of people would you save?"

I glanced down at my brother in her arms. "D'Tonkwo! I'll always save him!" I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I'll take care of you, and protect you and save you. I promise."

* * *

 _note: Gogo means grandmother in Xhosa, which is the language the Wakandans were speaking in Civil War. They didn't actually invent a language for Wakandan._

 _As always, reviews are much appreciated! Next update should be Saturday night with a new 'present' chapter._

 _'Til then!_


	3. 3 - A Favour

_note: Thanks for the support! As promised, the next installment is up, and we're back to the present again. I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 _Chapter 3 - Present_

"Let me get this straight," I clarify. "You want me to put him in the cryochamber?" I'm speaking in Wakandan now, not English. This question I direct to T'Challa, not the golden-haired captain.

"That was his decision," T'Challa responds calmly. I'm starting to get sick and tired of everyone acting like this is normal. Nothing about this entire situation is normal. It's crazy. Everyone is crazy.

"Do you even understand what that means? He might not survive this. A million things could go wrong – his blood could crystallise, his breath could freeze over. Some people aren't strong enough to withstand it."

"He's strong enough."

"Has he gone into stasis before?" I ask, and T'Challa nods. There goes my argument. "It's still a bad idea, T'Challa. If something goes wrong within the first few weeks, someone needs to pull him out and make sure he doesn't die."

"I know."

I can feel the anger and infuriation rising in me. "And you intend to stay here? And ignore the fact that you need to organise your father's funeral and your coronation?"

"I'm not staying here, D'Taya." He sighs and looks at me squarely. "I'm asking you to."

"What?" I can't help but raise my voice. I notice the captain frown in confusion. Good; let him stay in the dark. If he's in on this plan, I don't care who he is, I'll punch him in his perfect face.

"I'm calling in that favour you owe me. From the Aga Khan incident." The bastard. My hands clench into fists. "D'Taya, I know this is a lot to ask but this is of utmost importance and you're the only one who can do this. Please."

I hate him so much right now. "Fine." I can't refuse.

"Thank you."

I decide that I'm done talking to him, and I turn away to the cryochamber. I need to set it to the right conditions, adjusting it to the sergeant's height, weight and body mass. A wrong calculation could kill him. I spin around to look at him, where he's sitting down and staring into space. "Are you sure you want this?"

He glances at me and nods. What happened to him to make him like this? It's as if he's no longer a man, only a shell of one.

"How long since you were frozen?"

"17 months."

If textbooks are to be believed, that's enough time for his body to recover and to be fit to undergo cryopreservation again. I just hope the textbooks are right.

T'Challa and the golden-haired captain walk over from where they were having their private conversation in the corner. "Is it ready?" the captain asks me.

In turn, I face the sergeant. "Are you ready?" He nods and stands up. He walks past me and enters the chamber passively.

I step towards him and hold up a hypodermic needle with a clear liquid in it. "This is so your blood does not freeze. It may hurt a bit." I would have gone through the procedure of instructing the patient to take a deep breath and look away, but I don't know how to say that in English.

Gently, I ease the needle into this basilica vein. He doesn't move at all. No sudden flinch, no twitch in his face and no deep exhale. It's as if he doesn't feel anything. How much pain did he have to endure to be absolutely tolerant to a needle piercing his skin?

I tell myself not to think about that as I inject the cryoprotectant into him. Then I remove the needle and gently hold a cotton bud to the injection site.

I feel T'Challa and the captain watching my every move. I haven't been observed like this since my last practical exam. But I don't care. I'm competent, and I know it.

His blood should have clot already, so I remove the cotton bud and dispose of it, along with the needle. Then, I grab a mask and reach up to attach it to his face. My fingers accidentally brush against his cheek and a chilling sensation goes up my arm. "This is so your breath does not freeze," I explain, trying to regain my professionalism as much as possible. He doesn't react.

I swiftly turn my attention to the machine and check that everything is fine. Heart beat steady, blood pressure normal, body temperature stable – he's in perfect health, except for the missing arm. My finger hovers over the button.

I glance back at T'Challa and the captain. They both nod, a signal to proceed. "Are you ready?" I ask the man. He looks at me and nods. Is it my own imagination or do I see gratitude in his eyes? I choose to ignore it and press the button.

The chamber closes and the temperature in the chamber begins descending to sub-zero. I look through the glass screen. The man inside has his eyes closed, and for once, he looks peaceful.

I face the two men watching me. "It is done." I say in English.

"Thank you, doctor," the golden-haired one says. He holds out his hand.

 _I didn't do it for you._ I want to say that. But my mother taught me manners. "I am happy to help." I shake his hand and offer a smile. Then I turn and look for T'Challa, who's walking away to his room. I pursue him.

"T'Challa," I call out and he turns to me. I switch back to my native tongue. "I need answers. Who are these people? Why did you bring them here? Why does that man want to enter stasis?"

"I should have known that you would ask for information. You always were too nosy."

"Just answer the questions, dammit."

His smile fades and is replaced by a serious frown. "They're political refugees hunted by the government. But they're not criminals. They're superheroes, and I'm supporting them while they're in hiding." He sighs. "The world needs them, whether they know it or not."

"The world needs them, so you put that man in stasis?"

"That man is different. He's…been through a lot. I don't know the entire truth about him. I didn't ask. But even if I did, his story isn't mine to tell. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything more."

That's not good enough. I want to know more about that man and what could have possibly taken his arm off, taken his metal arm off and turned him into someone so broken. But I know that's all I'm going to get from T'Challa. "Alright."

I turn to go, but T'Challa grabs my arm and pulls me back.

"D'Taya. I know I should have asked earlier…how are you holding up?"

My defenses go up immediately. "I'm fine." From his look, I can tell he doesn't believe me. "Honestly, I'm doing great."

He still isn't convinced. "One month isn't enough to get over someone."

"Says the man whose father died days ago." The words come out before I can think, and instantly I regret them. There's a pang of guilt when I see the hurt cut across T'Challa's face. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to." I sigh. "Thank you for your concern, T'Challa. But I'm done mourning. You've only just started. Take care of yourself before thinking of others." I reach out and hug him. I'd forgotten how much I missed him.

He pulls away. "Thank you for doing this, D'Taya." Somehow I can't bring myself to be angry at him anymore.

"Of course."

"There's more than enough food in the kitchen. Shall I arrange people to collect things from your place?"

I'd completely forgotten about that. "Yes, that'd be good. Just clothes and my laptop should be enough for a few weeks."

"I'll be back as soon as I can." He smiles at me, before he leans in and kisses my cheek. That is goodbye enough for both of us.

He walks away to join the captain. A few minutes later, I hear the helicopter start up.

I sigh and look at the cryochamber, where the sergeant lies. It's just him and me now. But mostly me.

* * *

 _note: I tried to be as medically correct as possible but honestly I'm not a doctor nor a med student._

 _Expect an update on Wednesday._

 _'Til then!_


	4. 4 - A Prince

_note: Thank you all for your support and encouragement! I really hope you're enjoying the story so far._

* * *

 _Chapter 4 - Past_

I looked around in amazement at the tall buildings in front of me. Everything was so big, compared to the small village I grew up in. "It's amazing, isn't it?" I commented, turning to my brother.

"Everything's so modern," D'Tonkwo replied. "It's like we've been living in the past, and this is the future."

I agreed with a nod, taking a few more moments to let reality sink it. I was really in Freedomtown, the capital of Wakanda.

The next day he stood by my side as I stared at my new school. The National University of Wakanda: the most prestigious university in the country.

"I can't believe I'm actually here. It feels like a dream." Pain shot through my arm and my brain registered it as I let out a cry. "Ow!" I glared at my brother, who had just slapped me.

"Well, you're not dreaming." He gave me a cheeky wink and I glared at him.

I was going to miss him so much. "You're a jerk," I accused. "Now come here." I grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. He was taller than me, as he had been ever since he hit puberty. "I'll miss you."

D'Tonkwo grinned as he pulled away. "I won't. I already made plans to move some of my stuff to your room."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a good shove. He stumbled a few steps backwards. "You're lucky I don't use my bio knowledge to hurt you."

"You're going to be a doctor, D'Taya. Doctors save people, not hurt them." He meant it as a joke, but the reality resonated in me. I was going to be a doctor. I was going to save people.

"You're lucky I'm too excited to fight you today." I shot him a smirk.

He opened his mouth to retort, but something else caught his eye. I turned to see an armoured car with police escorting it. "What's that?"

"It looks like someone from royalty."

D'Tonkwo paused for a moment. "Wait, isn't Prince T'Challa the same age as you?"

"Yeah, but…I never thought he'd be in the same university as me." The large bell tower in the centre of campus tolled, which was my sign to go. "That's my cue. I'll see you during term break. Try not to get into too much trouble."

We always hated saying goodbye to each other. To us, nothing was ever goodbye, because we'd always see each other again.

I hugged him once more, then he smiled and walked away, leaving his big sister to conquer university life all by herself. I sighed lightly and turned to enter the large building.

It was a new start.

I later found out that it really was Prince T'Challa who was in that royal vehicle, and he really was studying in the University of Wakanda. There was a huge hype about it, and I tried not to join the crowd, but I couldn't help being thrilled. I was in the same year as a ruler of the nation.

He was studying physics, which meant he was in a different faculty. Somehow medicine had its own faculty, because it apparently wasn't a science. Still, every once in a while I'd catch a glimpse of him walking down the corridors, where he'd part the crowd easily. Everyone knew the prince, and everyone wanted to be friends with him.

Admittedly, I wanted to meet him too, but I found being friends with him far too intimidating. I could just imagine having to carefully choose every word I say in front of the cameras and the reporters. What a nightmare.

His reputation of being the most charming and faultless person preceded him, and I would have the chance to test that during my first meeting with him.

I was in the library, looking for a book on biomechanics to study. Examinations were coming up, and everyone was looking for books to help them get their straight As. I found my book easily and was about to leave, until I heard voices from a few aisles down. It sounded like there was an argument going on.

I couldn't help myself. I stealthily walked over and peeked down the aisle.

It was the prince himself, and I felt a smile creeping onto my face. All I had to was step forward and say something and I would have officially met the Prince of Wakanda.

Prince T'Challa had a deep frown on his face as he stared at a fellow student. "Hand me the book. Please."

"No." The student held the book possessively to his chest. "I got it first. I was holding it before you even saw it."

"I'm aware, but I want to borrow it."

"I want to borrow it too. And I should borrow it. It's mine!" I thought he was acting like a child and I was rooting for Prince T'Challa to win.

"No, it belongs to the university, which belongs to the country. And as the Prince of Wakanda, I can order royal guards to take this book from you, along with everything you own."

The student froze in fear. "You're right. Of course you're right. Forgive me, your highness." He quickly passed the book to the prince and scuttled away. Prince T'Challa sighed deeply as he flipped through the pages of the book and tucked it in his arm.

Suddenly, I wasn't rooting for the prince anymore. That was just plain wrong and I wouldn't stand for it. "That wasn't right," I declared, stepping forward.

Prince T'Challa spun round and frowned at me. "Excuse me?"

"I saw what happened and it wasn't fair." There was a dangerous glint in his eyes but I forced myself not to be intimidated.

"Life isn't fair."

"That doesn't mean you get to take advantage of those who have less than you."

Prince T'Challa narrowed his eyes at me, but he remained silent. I had a feeling he knew his actions weren't right. He straightened up and scanned me with his eyes. "You certainly have courage." He turned around and walked away.

That was how I met the prince.

The incident stayed with me for a few days. It was just so surreal and I couldn't even imagine how I could have stood up to him like that. What if he was sending an assassin to take me out right now?

"Hey!" a voice called out.

Instinctively, I turned around, more curious to find out who was shouting rather than thinking it was for me. But it actually was for me. And it was Prince T'Challa shouting.

I could feel the eyes turning and staring at me, but my eyes were solely fixed on the prince standing in front of me, talking to me.

He noticed that we were being ogled at, so he pulled me into a quieter corner. He didn't waste any time. "You were right."

"Excuse me?" I was still in a blur. Everything was happening so quickly.

"About that day in the library. You were right. My actions were dishonourable."

"Oh. I…uh, sure." How was someone supposed to respond to that?

There was an awkward pause before Prince T'Challa spoke again. "Thank you for your honesty. And for treating me as you would any other person."

I felt my cheeks going hot and I smiled. "I was just trying to do the right thing."

"That's very noble, uh…" He cleared his throat. "I don't think I got your name."

"D'Taya." I extended my arm for a handshake.

He gripped my hand firmly. "I'm T'Challa."

"I know."

He cleared his throat again. "I was about to go get some coffee. Would you like to join me?" That was the smoothness and charm I had heard about.

I looked into his kind eyes and smiled. "I would like that very much."

And that was how I made a friend of the Prince of Wakanda.

* * *

 _"...and that kids, is how I met your mother."_

 _note: This chapter wasn't my favourite but it was an interesting one to write. Hopefully you guys didn't find it too cliche. Leave a review with your thoughts!_

 _Next update will be on Saturday, with the next 'Present' chapter. 'Til then!_


	5. 5 - A Temptation

_note: I can't thank you all enough for your favourites/follows/reviews. I'm really glad you guys are enjoying this (or at least, I hope you are)._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 _Chapter 5 - Present_

I take a step back and look at my creation proudly. It's not completely done yet, mostly because I'm taking my time on this. The sergeant can wait a few more days for his arm, and T'Challa didn't give me a deadline.

Technically, T'Challa didn't formally ask me to rebuild the arm, but I know him well enough to know that he wants me to. That would explain all the vibranium he left lying around the place, begging to be used.

And it would also explain why he wanted me here, not any other ordinary doctor. Ordinary doctors can't build functional metal arms. They don't have the experience, nor the expertise.

I can't take credit for that, though. It wasn't my idea to spend years building prosthetic limbs for landmine victims. It was D'Tonkwo. The idea had somehow appeared in his mind after he came back from doing volunteer work in Angola. He always was such a philanthropist.

" _Just think of all the things we could do! You're a doctor; I'm an engineer – we could help so many people."_

" _I can't do what you're asking, Tonk. Like you said – I'm a doctor. I cure cancer, not make limbs."_

" _That's why I'm here. You just tell me exactly how muscles work – the mechanisms, the movements – and I can make them using metal."_

 _I shook my head. "You think it's that easy?"_

" _No, I know it's incredibly difficult and it's going to take a hell lot of time." He sighed and looked at me with those pleading eyes. "But think of all the people we could help. Doesn't that make it all worth it?"_

I smile lightly at the memory. He was always so good and kind, so happy and giving. He surely didn't learn it from me.

A surge of anger begins growing in the pit of my stomach, rising up inside of me.

My clenched fist slams down on the table, hard.

Deep breaths, I think, standing up and pacing the floor. Don't think about it. Move on. I can't change the past. The knot slowly smoothens out.

I walk over to the cryochamber and peer in at the sleeping soldier. "What did you lose?" I ask him, knowing full well that he won't give an answer. "What broke you? Or was it a who?" Maybe it was a girl. It's hard to imagine the muscular and stoic man was at the mercy of someone who broke his heart.

I look away and smile to myself. I must look delusional, talking to someone in stasis. What's next? Falling in love with him? I inwardly scoff at my own idea. Love – as if.

I slump down onto my chair. I'm going crazy. I'm not unused to being alone, but there's something about this place and this whole arrangement which is making me go insane.

T'Challa asked me to do this, and I agreed to help, but I can't help being dissatisfied here. A life like this is utterly meaningless. But then again, what do I know about meaning? My life never had any meaning.

But maybe…maybe I can help one more person before I go.

I sigh and turn back to the near-completed metal arm. Back to work.

A few more days pass and I finally finish the arm. It looks like a robot arm, lacking a layer of silicon to resemble a real arm, but it's functional and very sturdy.

I have to confess that I'm extremely excited for the moment when T'Challa sees the arm I made. He'll be so surprised. And pleased. He'd compliment me for taking the initiative to do this.

Of course, I'd have to wake the sergeant first before I attach the metal arm to his body. There's no way I can do a prosthesis surgery while his body tissue is freezing, and it's too dangerous to take him out of stasis just to attach an arm and then put him back in.

But what if I don't put him back in? What if I let him wake up?

I entertain the thought as the possibilities grow in my mind. What would happen?

I could finally have someone to talk to while I wait for T'Challa's return. And I wouldn't have to worry about constantly checking his vitals.

And I'll finally get some answers. Who is this strange man and why does he want to be in stasis? What history does he have with that golden-haired captain, and with T'Challa? How did he lose his human arm in the first place, and then his metal arm after that?

The more questions I ask myself, the more the action tempts me. His entire existence is a mystery to me, and I hate unsolved mysteries. So I have to solve it.

I smile with trepidation. Do I really dare to do this?

T'Challa would be so mad. He'd kill me. And I know, with his skillset, he could. The golden-haired captain might kill me too. I'd be a dead woman.

The interest slowly ebbs away. I'd rather not die.

I force myself to stay away from the medical bay. Minutes pass. Hours pass. Days pass.

Every day is the same. I wake up, check his vitals, eat, stare at the clock until it's time for lunch, eat again, check his vitals again, stare at the clock until it's time for dinner, check his vitals again, eat again, shower, check his vitals again and sleep.

So boring.

There are only so many medical reports I can read before my brain turns to mush, and the news is the same every day. I've had nothing to do ever since I finished building that arm.

Admittedly, I'm dying to find out if it works. Theoretically, it should work, but this is the first time I'm building a limb without D'Tonkwo with me.

The thought creeps into my mind again, and not for the first time. Should I wake him?

There are a million reasons to wake him, and only a few reasons to keep him in stasis. The curiosity has been burning in me for a while now, and if I don't quell it, I'm pretty sure it'll consume me and I'll be reduced to a pile of ashes.

That's it.

I don't care about T'Challa. Or the captain.

I'm doing it.

I stride over to the cryochamber and stare at the button to press in order to wake him. It'd be so easy. I take in a deep breath. No regrets.

My palm slams down hard on the button and the chamber begins to warm up.

There's no going back now.

He's still unconscious when the cryochamber opens, and I attach a mask connected to a canister of desflurane to his face. Why does T'Challa even keep anesthetic gas in this place? But it's useful, so I don't complain.

Strictly speaking, he doesn't have to be unconscious for me to do this, but it's easier. Fewer questions to answer. Plus, I want to see his pure, genuine reaction when he realises he has an arm. I begin to feel nervous.

The actual procedure of putting on the arm takes quite a while, and throughout the whole process, I'm burning with anticipation.

How long has it been since I've felt this fire? The passion is inside of me, as if from the ashes a spark is lit and now I'm entirely in flames. Oh, how I've missed this feeling.

It's the first time I'm attaching a prosthetic limb in a place that isn't a hospital. I desperately pray to the Panther God that everything turns out alright.

I take a step back and look at it. It looks good – but maybe I'm just biased. I turn off the supply of desflurane and remove the mask from his face.

I sit down by the window and stare out at the expanse of forest. And that's when it hits me.

What did I just do?

I just woke him up from stasis, without any permission. T'Challa is going to kill me. My mind searches for justified reasons apart from 'I was curious'.

His vitals weren't stable? I could say that. It would be a complete lie, but at least he might buy it.

I'm in so much trouble. I'm dead. I'm utterly dead.

A cough breaks my out of my thoughts. My head snaps up to look at the sergeant.

He sees me. Our gazes lock.

Well. He's awake.

* * *

 _note: And cue the suspenseful music. This chapter was fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are love._

 _Next chapter will be on Wednesday, as usual. 'Til then!_


	6. 6 - A Doctor

_note: This is one of my longer chapters, especially of the past. Honestly, I don't think it's one of my best chapters, but it was definitely interesting to write. Enjoy!_

* * *

 _Chapter 6 - Past_

Sometimes I would think I could control the weather. That, or the Panther God changed the weather according to how I was feeling.

That day, the sky cried with me. A hole was created in the wall and the body was carried feet first out of my house. D'Tonkwo stood beside me in silence as we followed the zig-zag path of the body and threw thorns on the ground we tread.

There was only the sound of rain as the body was lowered into the ground. The community stood in silent solidarity to witness the passing of the deceased from one world to another.

Being the only family she had, Baba, Mama, D'Tonkwo and I stood on one side of the gravesite, while the village stood on the other side.

The rites were read and the ox was slain. Then the shaman said a few words and it was all done.

We left as we entered. In silence.

The linens were washed; the furniture was moved; the clothes were bundled. Just as tradition dictates. Baba, Mama, D'Tonkwo and I cut our hair and sprinkled herbal water on each other, symbolizing cleansing and warding off evil.

The period of mourning was a month, according to tradition, but in reality mourning lasts forever. Just because I knew I'd get used to the gap in my heart that doesn't mean it stops being there.

Dinner, like everything else, was quiet. No one was in the mood for talking. I tried not to notice the gap where Gogo's chair used to be.

At least I was with family. In a week, I'd have to go back to university. I couldn't miss any lessons in my last year of medical school, because examinations and certificates don't care if my grandmother died. At least I had some reassurance that D'Tonkwo would be here to stay with Baba and Mama.

There was a knock at the door.

D'Tonkwo disappeared for a moment to answer it, and I paid no mind, until he came back and made an announcement. "Baba, Mama, there's a man looking for you. He calls himself Doctor W'Nabi."

Baba and Mama stood up and looked at each other questioningly. Doctor W'Nabi…the name sounded familiar to me. Where did I hear it before? "Oh!" Baba smiled. "It's Mama's doctor." Baba walked off into the sitting room before any of us could react, and the three of us trailed behind him.

One look at him and I recognised him. I pictured a man with a mask, one with kind eyes, pushing Gogo on a wheelchair. I had seen him on my first trip to a hospital. He was the one who Gogo spoke of. The superhero who had healed her.

Doctor W'Nabi was a lot taller back then, or maybe I was just much shorter. His hair was now mostly white, contrasting his dark skin. "I'm sorry for intruding. I don't mean to stay long. I heard about the passing of your mother. I wish I could have attended the funeral, but I had to work." He placed his hand over his head and his eyes looked down. "I want to offer my deepest condolences for your loss."

Baba bowed his head and placed his hand over his own heart. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Your mother was one of the most respected people in the village. Her life inspired many people." He had a genuine sadness in his eyes.

"You are very kind," Mama said, with a gentle but sad smile. "Thank you for your words."

There was a short pause in the conversation, and I wanted to ask him something, but Mama spoke instead. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"

"Thank you for your hospitality, but I must go; I have taken up enough of your time. Once again, my condolences." He nodded at each of us and exited the house.

I stood frozen for a moment. Then I turned to my parents. "Wait. That was Doctor W'Nabi? The man who healed Gogo? From that time I went to the hospital when I was a child?" They nodded silently.

"Right." My brain didn't stop to think as it pushed my body out of the doors. "I'll be back." My legs moved without me and ran out after the doctor. I had so many questions for him. He was the doctor who inspired me, the only doctor of this village. He was good and skilled and kind - everything a doctor should be. Everything I wanted to be. I saw an entreating figure heading down the path to my right. "Doctor W'Nabi!"

He turned around. The dim lights emanating from the neighbouring houses were enough to be able to see each other. "Good evening, miss. I recognise you. You're her granddaughter, aren't you?" I nodded, taking a moment to catch my breath. He had a small smile on his face, one which held both amusement and wistfulness. "You were just a child when I first saw you."

"You remember me?" I was surprised.

He hummed lightly. "I remember the small girl who waited all night in the hospital for her grandmother, who smiled brighter than the sun when her grandmother was wheeled out of the operating theatre."

I couldn't help but smile at the faint memory. "Did you know her well?"

"We were friends as children." He looked at me quizzically. "But I'm sure you didn't come looking for me to talk about your grandmother."

I glanced down shyly. "I wanted to ask you about being a doctor. You're the only doctor I've met in this village, and some of the doctors from other tribes don't understand our culture. I was just wondering…what it takes to be a good doctor."

He looked surprised. "You're interested in being a doctor?"

"I'm in my final year of medical school."

His nodded slowly. "Impressive. Not many people make it that far." I felt my cheeks go hot at the compliment. It was always a thrill to be praised by someone senior. "Many people do it for the money. That's what you mean about culture, isn't it?" I nodded. "In my experience, doctors should be paid less than what they are now." He laughed lightly. "Doctors should be motivated by passion."

"But how?" I interrupted gently.

"Well, for me, I always remind myself why I became a doctor." He looked at me curiously. "Why _did_ you become a doctor?"

"Because of you." I blurted it out without a second thought.

"Excuse me?" His tone conveyed his shock.

"What I mean to say," I started, trying to fix his impression of me. "Is that I decided to be a doctor when my grandmother fell sick and went to the hospital to see you. She told me you saved her life, and I thought…well, I wanted to save lives too."

He nodded, taking in my words. He brought his hand to his face and stroked his chin in deep thought. "That's interesting." He glanced down and his eyes met mine. "I never thought…well, nevermind about that. You said you want to save lives. Who exactly do you want to save?"

"My family." A memory was struck, and I remember sitting next to Gogo, smiling at baby D'Tonkwo. " _I'll take care of you, and protect you and save you. I promise."_ I remember those innocent eyes looking up at me."And my brother."

"Good. Think of them every day when you're a doctor. Think of them and you won't be easily drawn in by the money. Then you'll realise that being a doctor is so much more than money and prestige."

I nodded. "Thank you, Doctor." I bowed my head in respect.

"I expect this won't be the last time I see you," he said with a smile, before he waved and went on his way.

His advice wasn't anything new, but his question forced me to remember something embedded so deep in my mind that it took me almost two decades to recall it. But thinking back, how could I have forgotten it? It was one of my key memories, one of the main reasons I decided to be a doctor.

I entered the house again and closed the door behind me.

"Is something the matter, D'Taya?" Mama asked curiously.

I shook my head and sat down at the table. I looked at the empty spot where Gogo's chair used to be. I couldn't save her. The Panther God led her into the spiritual world, and there was nothing I could do. But I could do something for the rest of my family. "I love you guys."

There was a moment of dead silence. How long had it been since I last said that? "What was that for?" D'Tonkwo asked, disgust hiding his sentimentality.

I shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure you know."

* * *

 _note: As always, reviews are much appreciated. Look forward to the next chapter - it'll be an exciting one - on Saturday. 'Til then!_


	7. 7 - A Stranger

_note: My longest chapter. Far longer than the others, but I need it to be a little longer._

 _I really must commend your patience for waiting 6 chapters for this. Hopefully it lives up to expectations._

* * *

His eyes are still fixed on me. I stand up shakily, hesitantly. I take a few steps closer to him, keeping my gaze locked with his. I stop quite some distance away. What if he attacks me? What if he thinks I'm an enemy?

I don't know how the pale-skinned think, how they were raised. But I've heard stories of hostility to my kind. I just pray he's not that kind of person.

"Hello." I speak first, finally finding my voice. "My name is D'Taya. You are Sergeant Barnes?"

He stares at me, confused. "My name is Bucky." It seems to be a reflex action, and I wonder if he knows he just spoke. Then he notices that he has gained an arm and clenches his mechanical fist.

I try to hide the overwhelming feeling of triumph and pride. It works.

He looks surprised, then pleased. He turns his gaze back to me and appears to have just registered that I spoke. "Why am I here?"

I clear my throat. "T'Challa – that is, King T'Challa – brought you here. I am a doctor. And-"

"No." He interrupts me and frowns. "Why am I awake?" He steps out of the chamber. He looks quite intimidating with those dark eyes focused on me.

"I waked – uh, woke – you."

"Why?"

"I…" Why _did_ I wake him? I was curious. But I couldn't give him that answer. "Why…why you want to be asleep?"

He blinks. "It's better this way."

Better? "How?"

His frown deepens. "I'm…dangerous."

So I was right. It _was_ guilt in his eyes. "You do not look dangerous."

"You don't know me." His answer was curt and direct. "You didn't answer my question. Why did you wake me?" His voice is threatening now, and I do my best to not feel afraid.

"I…" I don't think I can run from the truth. Not with him. "I need answers."

He stiffens up and studies me. I can see the hostility in his eyes as he looks at me. I'm not the enemy and I don't want to hurt him. Does he know that? "I don't have any answers."

It's good that he's not attacking me, but I can't hide my disappointment at his answer. "Please."

"Sorry." He brushes past me and leaves. I want to call him back, to ask him one of the thousands of questions swirling inside my head, but I have a feeling he wouldn't listen anyway.

I sigh.

I hope I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life.

Our next encounter is a few days later. There's only two of us in the rather small facility, but I never see him. I get the feeling he's avoiding me. Most of the time, he stays in another one of the spare bedrooms. He probably only goes out to get food when I'm showering, or when I'm asleep.

I'm surprised when I step out of my room one day and I see him sitting in the kitchen, a mug filled with coffee in front of him. He doesn't react in any way when I walk in, but I'm certain he knows I'm there. I pour myself a glass of juice and sit across the table. He's looking down at his drink so I look at mine too.

He uses his metal arm to bring the mug to his lips as he takes a sip.

I cough. He glances up at me to see me watching him. I'm trying to smile, but it probably looks like a grimace. "Your arm works."

He nods. "Thank you."

"I am sorry it does not look quite as…complete."

He shrugs. "It works." The corner of his mouth twitches upwards in an attempt to smile. It's not much, but I'll take it.

We spend the next few minutes in silence. He finishes his coffee, washes the empty mug and leaves.

I don't see him for another few days.

The boredom comes again, but at least there's something different about my life. There's someone else in the building, and it's exhilarating to always be on guard. When will he come out of his room? Will I ever get a glimpse of that pale skin and dark hair? What would he have to say?

That day I'm sitting in the table in the medical lab, skimming through the Wakandan news. The latest news is that T'Challa landed in Romania for a diplomatic conference. That would explain why he isn't back yet.

I hear a cough and rapidly turn around to see him. A smile finds its way onto my face and my heart begins thumping more rapidly. "Hello."

He walks forward a few steps. "Are you HYDRA?"

I'm confused. "No…I am D'Taya. T'Challa's friend." Is he suffering from memory loss? Doesn't he remember me? There is familiarity between us, though, so he must recognise me.

"You ever been to America?"

I shake my head. "Wakanda is my home." He looks relieved, but I don't understand why. Who is this hydra person? Do I look like her? He seems satisfied and turns to go, but I stop him. "Wait." It's now or never. "I answer your questions. Will you answer mine?"

He faces me again. "What do you want to know?"

I gesture to the empty seat in front of me, but he doesn't move. Alright, then. If he chooses to be that way. "Who are you?" I ask.

"My name is Bucky."

"I know." He told me that already. "But who are you, truly? Why are you here? How do you know T'Challa? Why do you think you are dangerous?" He remains silent and my tone changes to a gentle one. "Please. I need answers."

"I told you, I don't have any answers."

I sigh. "Please. Anything you know."

He pauses for a moment. Then he draws a breath in. "Some people call me the Winter Soldier."

That's a start, at least. "Why did T'Challa bring you here?"

"He said…he said he could help us – Steve and me. I think he felt bad because he wanted to kill me, and we-"

"What?" I know it's rude to interrupt, but I'm too stunned to care. "Kill you?"

He frowns. "I thought you knew." I shake my head. "The King's murder…the explosion. I was framed for it, and your friend wanted to kill me."

I take a deep breath. That isn't the T'Challa I know. The T'Challa I know is kind and forgiving and loving, just like his father. But I know how close T'Challa is to his father. A death like that – a murder, no less – could push him off the edge. I need to know more. "Continue."

"Steve helped me prove that I was innocent, that someone else did it."

"Who?"

He shrugs. "A Sokovian."

"Why?"

He shrugs again. "Something about splitting the team apart."

I frown. What team? He's confusing me, and I don't doubt that it's partially due to him being confused himself. "Did T'Challa hurt you?" I'm pretty sure that sounded different from what I meant and I tilted my chin at the metal arm to specify.

He shakes his head. "That was someone else."

"Who?"

"Tony Stark."

The name sounds familiar. I probably read his name in the news before. "Why?"

"I killed his parents."

That's an unexpected answer, and an involuntary gasp escapes my lips. "Were you framed for that too?"

"No."

I shift in my seat, now feeling the danger I put myself in. Is this why he considers himself dangerous? Or was he a hero, and Tony Stark's parents were the villains? I don't like jumping to conclusions. I need to know more. "Why did you kill them?"

"I was told to."

Again, I don't expect that answer. I look at him and analyse his expression. His body language. He seems ashamed. That guilt I see emerges. "Did you want to?"

He pauses. Hesitation. He shakes his head. "No."

"Did someone make you?" I can't help but think to an article I read, about a man who could control other people's minds and make them kill themselves and others. That was also in America. New York.

He nods slightly.

I want to know more, but I stop myself. I think I've asked him enough questions for a lifetime. "Thank you for your honesty." I don't have all the answers I want, but then again, I don't even know what questions I have. At least I have somewhat of a better idea.

I smile at him, and he returns it with a nod. Then he turns and leaves.

So he was forced to kill someone. Is that why he's so guilty and ashamed? Is that what broke him and made him the ghost of the man he is?

The poor man.

What can I do? I'm a doctor, and I'm supposed to fix people. But I don't know how to fix him.

I see him again the next day. I'm sitting by the window, staring off into space, when I hear a familiar cough.

"Put me back on ice," he says.

I elect not to tell him that I can't. "Why?"

He doesn't answer.

"Because it is dangerous?"

"Because _I'm_ dangerous." I choose not to tell him that it's even more dangerous to put him in stasis so soon after taking him out.

"Going into-" I pause. What's the English word for stasis? "Going back onto ice," I try again, using his words, "will not change anything."

His hands clench into fists. "You don't understand." His voice becomes a low growl, more threatening. "They're still in my head. All they have to do is say a few words and I'm a killing machine. I can kill everyone – including you." He lowers his voice. "I'm not like Steve. I'm not…good. I'm broken. And Steve's going to find a way to fix me, but until then…" He sighs. "I need to go back in that chamber."

I wish I could heal him. Physical wounds are easy for me to heal, but mental wounds and emotional wounds are beyond me. I've never felt so helpless. But I'm damn well going to try. "Bucky. There is good in you."

"You don't know that."

"The want to be good is already sign that there is good."

He shakes his head. "You don't know what I've done."

"You did not want to."

He shrugs. "I still did it."

I sigh. He's a stubborn man, isn't he? He's so fixated on his wrongdoings that he can't even see the good in him. "How do you expect people to forgive you if you do not forgive yourself?"

"I don't."

"Maybe you should."

He pauses for a moment. He meets my gaze. I don't know what he's thinking, but I can tell that there's inner turmoil in him. Uncertainty. Maybe I'm getting through to him.

He looks away, letting out a sigh. "Put me back in the chamber."

"No." It's better to let him think I'm not doing it because I believe in him rather than because it's unsafe. Maybe if someone believes in him, he'll start believing in himself.

I stand and walk away, with nothing more to say. I know he can catch me, hurt me, threaten me to put him back. But he doesn't. He lets me leave.

That's proof that he's good. If only he could just see that.

* * *

 _note: Some Easter Eggs in this chapter so kudos if you spotted them._

 _Leave a review to let me know I didn't make a torrential debacle of this chapter (only if you actually think so, though)!_

 _Next chapter will be on Wednesday; 'til then!_


	8. 8 - A Future

_note: Thank you for your positive feedback on my previous chapter! It's nice to know I didn't make a colossal mess of it._

 _We're back to the past in this chapter, and this one just serves to tie up some loose ends._

* * *

 _Chapter 8 - Past_

"Good luck," D'Tonkwo said with a grin.

I let out a breath. "You too."

He chuckled lightly. "I still remember your first day of med school."

"And I still remember your first day at engineering school," I countered, and he laughed. "You're going to do some great work there, Tonk."

"Me? _You're_ the one who's saving dozens of lives."

"I'm staying in a very developed country with the comforts of good sanitation. _You're_ going to Lagos to work with people far less fortunate than us."

He shot me his signature smirk before glancing up at the clock of Aga Khan University Hospital. "You should get going, then. You don't want to miss your interview, do you?"

I nodded. He was right, of course. "Bye." I pulled him into a hug. "I'll miss you."

We pulled apart a moment later and he wiped away a tear which was falling down my cheek. "I don't think interviewers like people who look like they've just cried," D'Tonkwo warned, and I promptly gave him a shove. Trust D'Tonkwo to still joke around when I was trying to be sentimental. He laughed and grinned even wider. "Besides, it's not goodbye, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. He was always so particular about that. "Fine. See you soon," I corrected.

"See you soon," he returned, satisfied. "And may the Panther God grant you luck."

I nodded and waved one last time as I watched my brother enter the car and drive off. With a sigh, I turned around to face the hospital. It was the biggest interview of my life. If I did well, I might just be the newest member of the Aga Khan University Hospital staff. I forced myself to be confident and strode through the doors.

A while later, I walked out of the interview room. It was unquestionably, undoubtedly certain. After an interview like that, I was most definitely not going to get the job.

How could I have been so stupid and impulsive? I knew exactly what to say, but somehow my brain was working opposite and I said all the things I shouldn't have said. Calling myself inexperienced? Stating the obvious? Degrading other hospitals? These were amateur mistakes, and I shouldn't have made them.

I just blew my chance at my dream job.

I walked out of the hospital doors and the cool evening breeze drifted past me. I couldn't help it. My eyes starting tearing up and soon I found myself bawling. I sat myself down on one of the benches and began furiously wiping the tears away. I don't care if I was being a child. I don't care if everyone was staring. I was upset and I was bloody well going to show it.

"D'Taya?" I looked up through blurred vision and saw T'Challa. "I'm late, aren't I? I wanted to come and wish you luck for your interview." He gave me a crooked smile. "I guess I don't have to ask how it went."

I turned my face away and tried to force the tears to stop. They didn't listen. "Go away, T'Challa." He never saw me cry before. He probably thought me a spineless damsel.

I felt him sit down next to me and lay a hand on my shoulder.

It was something stupid to cry about, I knew, but it was upsetting. My dreams were shattered. I deserved to be upset. I buried my tear-stained face into T'Challa's chest and I felt his arms wrap around me.

"It'll be okay," he soothed, gently stroking my hair. "You know if there's anything I can do for you, you just have to name it."

I desperately wished he could, but it wasn't like he worked in the hospital. He didn't have any power. An idea popped into my head. He didn't have any power, except being the prince of this country. I sat up suddenly and stared at him. "Do you really mean that?" I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"Of course. You're one of my closest friends, D'Taya. I'd do anything for you."

A resolve took its place in me as I wiped away my tears. "You might just be able to help." He looked at me half-quizzically and half-suspiciously. "You're the prince. You can just demand them to hire me."

T'Challa's eyes widened. "D'Taya, do you even understand what you're asking of me?"

"It's nothing big. You just have to go in there and speak to the director of the hospital, and tell him that I'm the best doctor you know. You know my stats, and you know how hardworking I am. If there's anyone who deserves this job, it's me. You know that." I couldn't hide the desperation in my voice.

He sighed deeply. "It's not…right."

"Why not? People do it all the time, it's just different because you're the prince." He didn't look convinced. "If another candidate knows someone who works in the hospital, do you think they'd even have to go for an interview?"

"This isn't you, D'Taya. You know this is wrong. You were the one who stopped me when I used my position to take that book from that boy. Remember? In university?"

I shook my head. "You were threatening him. That was different."

"No it wasn't." He was adamant about this, I could see. But I've never wanted anything so much in my life. It wasn't even want anymore. It was need.

"T'Challa, _please_." I knew he would cave if I begged. "If you do this, I'll owe you a favour. Any favour. You name it, I'll do it." I nearly began crying again from the desperation. "Please, I'm _begging_ you."

He sighed and I knew he was considering it. "Fine." He stood up. "But no promises that it'll work."

I jumped up and hugged him tightly. "Thank you." I pressed my lips against his cheek. "Thank you so much."

He sighed and nodded before entering the hospital.

I got the news a week later – I got the job.

I was overjoyed and elated and ecstatic and grateful and all my emotions just poured out of me as I began running around my apartment. I grabbed my phone and called Mama. It was always a tradition for me to share my joy with my mother.

"Mama!" I practically yell into the received. "I got the job! You're talking to the newest doctor of Aga Khan Hospital!"

There was a pregnant pause. "That's great, honey." There was something wrong. Her voice was heavy and she sounded…afraid.

"Mama, what's the matter?"

She cleared her throat. "Are you at home?"

"Yes, why?"

"Turn on the news." I obeyed.

Breaking news: Explosion in Lagos.

I watched in horror at footage of an exploding building. There was fire and chaos and smoke and destruction. I drew in a shaky breath. "Where's D'Tonkwo?" I asked Mama.

"I don't know…he's not answering his calls."

"I'm sure everything will be fine." I continued watching the news and my eyes widened at the sight of superheroes, known as the Avengers. A man in a blue suit, a lady in a red jacket and- I squinted. Were those metal wings?

"D'Taya…you don't think…"

"I don't know. No one does. We should just wait and see what happens. But everything's going to be fine, okay?"

"Okay." She let out a deep breath. "Congratulations on the job, D'Taya."

I had completely forgotten. "Thank you." I hung up.

I spent the next few hours starting at the television screen, waiting for a call from D'Tonkwo. A sign that he was fine. Anything.

There came a knock from the door. It was T'Challa, with a file in his hands. It was information, I knew. He had the access that other people didn't.

I opened at the file and read its contents. It was a list of Wakandans who had died in Lagos.

No.

I heard the file drop onto the floor. I felt T'Challa's arms around me. I saw the world through blurred eyes.

I was wrong. Everything wasn't going to be fine. Everything was going to be not fine.

D'Tonkwo's name was there.

My baby brother was dead.

* * *

 _note: Not my proudest chapter, but I thought it turned out quite alright. I thought this chapter showed a different (though not exactly better) side of D'Taya, who can be a real hypocrite sometimes._

 _She puts forth a good argument. She knows she's the best at what she does and it isn't fair that her future is decided based on one failed interview. Another person who did well on the interview but who isn't as competent might get the job. But what if someone else really deserved that job and she took it from them? Then it wouldn't be fair either._ _Let me know - do you think D'Taya deserved to get the job or was it being unfair?_

 _Next chapter will be on Saturday, and a beloved character finally returns. 'Til then!_


	9. 9 - A Return

_note: Thank you for your answers to the question I left - it was really interesting to read different perspectives about an ethical - albeit small - dilemma._

* * *

 _Chapter 9 - Present_

My phone rings. It's T'Challa, probably back from whichever country he was visiting. I answer the call and bring my phone to my ear. "It's about time you called." I don't realise how much I miss speaking Wakandan until it comes out of my mouth.

He laughs from the other end. "I'm sorry I couldn't call earlier."

"I understand." I breathe deeply. I have a lot to hide. "How are things?"

"Better." He pauses, as if wondering if he should elaborate. He doesn't. "How's Sergeant Barnes?"

I panic for a moment. Has he somehow heard about what I did? That's impossible. My mind frantically rushes to come up with an explanation, before I realise he's probably just asking about Bucky's health in general. I take a breath in to level my voice. "His vitals are very stable." Technically, that's not a lie.

"That's good. Is he stable enough to leave without supervision?"

He's asking me if I want to leave. I want to say yes so desperately, but what'll happen to Bucky? I can't just leave him here, and I can't put him back in stasis. But how can I say no? I miss my apartment and my life and I don't want to be stuck here forever. "Yes, he should be." I feel slightly guilty for being selfish, but after all this, I think I deserve some selfishness. I can figure something out for Bucky later.

"Good, good." He sounds preoccupied. "I can send a helicopter to you now to bring you home."

"Now?" I try to hide my panic. I don't have time to arrange things for Bucky in the time it takes for a helicopter to get here. "I haven't packed at all. Everything's all over the place. I can't leave now."

"Tomorrow, then. I can imagine how eager you are to get home."

I force a laugh. "You're right about that. Tomorrow's fine." I cough lightly. "Will you be coming?"

"No, I don't think I can tomorrow, but I'll visit you once you get back to the city." I let out a silent breath of relief. "The earliest I can spare a helicopter is in the late afternoon. Is that alright with you?"

"That's fine. Thanks, T'Challa." I hang up before he can say anything else.

A selection of expletives enter my mind. What do I do now?

The next thing I know, I'm staring at Bucky's door. I don't want to disturb him, but I know that he needs to know that I'm leaving. I take in a deep breath and knock.

He opens the door a few seconds later. I get the feeling he knew I was there from the start. "I'm leaving," I blurt out without thinking. He blinks, clearly confused. "T'Challa called," I explain, slowing down my speech pattern. "He's sending a helicopter over tomorrow, to bring me home." I glance up at him, expecting a reaction. I get none, and feel some disappointment at that. "I want you to come with me."

That earns a surprised look from him. "Where?"

"Anywhere. I can contact people and find a safe place for you, where you can help people."

"Help people?" His tone is cynical and his face scrunches up.

"Is that not what you want?" I honestly had the impression that he wanted to redeem himself.

He shakes his head. "If I wanted to do good, I'd have gone with Steve."

"Why did you not?"

"Because," he takes a breath, as if he's tired of repeating himself. "I belong on ice. In that chamber, where you refuse to put me."

"The reason is-" I stop myself. I nearly forgot that I didn't tell him the real reason I can't put him in stasis. "No one belongs there. You belong in the world."

"I already told you." He raises his voice, and suddenly he looks far scarier than before. "I'm dangerous. I can kill _everyone_."

"That is because someone hurt your brain. But I know doctors. They can help you."

He shook his head. "The last doctor I saw…didn't work out."

"There are people I know well. If you do not trust others, just trust me."

"I _can't_." He looks as frustrated with me as I am with him. "Why are you even helping me?"

"Because..." Why _am_ I helping him? "I think I am meant to save you."

"You can't."

"You have not let me try."

He shakes his head. "I'm not worth it."

"Yes you are." He doesn't respond. I sigh. Sometimes I want to hit him. It's so infuriating trying to help someone who thinks they're not worthy of being helped. "Just think about it."

He nods and retreats back into his room. I don't see him for the rest of the day.

The next morning I walk out of my room, things already packed. I'm still expecting an answer from Bucky, but I have some time. I can ask him again later.

I hum a little tune as I stroll into the kitchen, where I see a man. It isn't Bucky.

T'Challa.

He's leaning against the counter with his arms folded. "D'Taya." He frowns at me. "Would you like to explain why the cryochamber is empty?"

I give him a weak smile. What was that excuse I prepared? "His vitals…they weren't stable. I needed to pull him out…or else, uh, he'd die."

He steps closer. "Don't lie to me."

Defensive doesn't work. So I try offensive. "Well, what did you expect, huh? You ask me to stay here to take care of a man I don't know a thing about. I needed answers, and _you_ weren't going to give me any!"

"So you directly disobeyed the wills of Captain America, Sergeant Barnes and me just because you were _curious_?"

Well, when he puts it that way it sounds like I did something wrong. "No, it's not that! No one deserves to spend their lives in a chamber, in stasis. He deserves to be out there, living life. And I talked to him – he's a good man. He's hurt, and broken, and I'm supposed to help him."

"It's not about whether he's a good man or not. He's not mentally stable! What happens if he runs away? If he kills someone? If he-" He stops and looks behind me, straightening up.

I turn to see Bucky standing at the door. I thank the Panther God that we were speaking in Wakandan, a language even he doesn't know.

"Bucky," I smiled at him.

He glances at me, then nods at T'Challa. "Your highness."

"Sergeant Barnes."

There's hostility in this room. "What are you doing here?" Bucky asks.

T'Challa sighed. "Captain Rogers. He says he's found someone who can help you."

"He did?" He sounds so hopeful, but so broken. How many times has he suppressed hope for fear of disappointment?

T'Challa nodded. "He's on his way to pick you up. He'll be here in a few hours."

"I…Thank you." His voice cracks. A quick and small smile flickers across his face, then he sighs and takes his leave.

I can't help but feel excited for Bucky. He must be so ecstatic and hopeful, and yet so afraid. I want to be there for him, with him. But I have to deal with T'Challa first.

I want to speak, but T'Challa beats me to it. "You built his arm, didn't you?" He's speaking in Wakandan again.

I'm genuinely surprised at his disapproving frown. "Of course. Isn't that what you wanted of me? That's the reason you called me here, not another doctor, right? Because I've built prosthetics before."

"No. I called you here because I thought I could trust you." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Now I'm not so sure." I'm stunned into silence, and hurt cuts through me. "You interfered with affairs much bigger than you understand. You are very lucky that Captain Rogers wants him awake when they go to the neurologist. If the Captain found out you disobeyed his order, you might have started a political fiasco."

I shake my head. "I don't regret it, T'Challa. I'm a doctor and I'm supposed to save people. I truly believe I'm meant to save him. That's why the Panther God arranged this. He's my atonement. For not being able to save…the people I care about."

"D'Taya," he starts. His tone is softer, but there's still that underlying frustration. "You're still in mourning. You can't-"

"No, it's not about that!" He has it all wrong. "It's not about me. It's about Bucky. He deserves happiness too."

T'Challa looks at me and sighs. "The Captain will bring him away, and then you can go home and forget about everything. He's not yours to save, D'Taya."

I meet his gaze steadily. I refuse to back down about this. "Bucky's my friend. Of _course_ he's mine to save."

* * *

 _note: I always enjoy writing about the relationship between D'Taya and T'Challa. It's purely platonic, and it borders on a sibling-like relationship (which parallels D'Taya's relationship with D'Tonkwo)._

 _As usual, next chapter will be on the past. 'Til then!_


	10. 10 - A Loss

_note: I don't really have much to say but I hope you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you'll enjoy this one as well._

* * *

 _Chapter 10 - Past_

I didn't remember the last time I felt something.

I went home for the funeral, but it didn't feel like me. It felt like I had stepped out of my own body and I was watching the world from afar.

But I knew that wasn't possible.

It wasn't me who was dead.

I spent most of my time in my room. Isolated and alone.

No, that wasn't true. People came to see me often. Childhood friends, former neighbours, ex-boyfriends – they came to offer condolences. I didn't see them, though. My parents were slowly learning how to entertain the guests I didn't want to see, which was everyone.

The hospital gave me a month off, even though I hadn't gone for a day of work. I thought that was nice of them.

But my month was coming to an end and I had to go back soon. I could see the worry in their eyes. _Would she be okay living on her own? Could she handle herself?_ I had no doubts that they were thinking that.

It was comforting to know that they cared, that they were worried. But I couldn't help thinking, if they could have been this worried for D'Tonkwo going to Lagos, he might still be alive.

I finally left my house one day. Or rather, one night. I didn't know what time it was. I didn't even know what day it was. I wanted to take a walk. I wanted to breathe fresh air and enjoy the coolness of the country. Instead, I felt nothing. I was stupid to think anything would change.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I was staring at the scene of a graveyeard. How had I come here? I didn't even remember walking. But somehow, I had appeared in front of D'Tonkwo's grave.

The sadness came like a flood, and this time, I didn't suppress it. It flowed through me, surging through my veins and seeping into every cell in my body. I hadn't felt like this since T'Challa delivered the news.

I sighed deeply and I saw my breath condense. I felt the ground beneath my feet. I smelt the fresh flowers on the grave. My senses were returning. I could feel again.

And it was finally time to say goodbye.

"You never let me say goodbye," I said, my voice hoarse from misuse. "It was always 'see you soon' with you. Well, guess what? I'm not going to see you again anytime soon." Unless I killed myself, I added in my head.

I pushed the thought away as quickly as it came. It wouldn't be fair to Baba and Mama.

"What are the odds that it would have been you? They could have blown up any other part of Lagos, any other part of the world, but no. The Panther God chose you. You-" My voice cracked. "You, the boy who probably deserved death the least."

"It's not fair. It's not _fair_. You weren't supposed to…you weren't supposed to…" I took in a deep breath. "You weren't supposed to…die."

That was it. The drought ended and tears came flooding down my cheeks.

I found that crying was a welcome change to the numbness and insensitivity of before.

"I'm sorry," I choked back a sob. "I broke my promise to you. I was supposed to save you…to protect you forever." I shook my head and roughly rubbed my cheeks. "I was a fool. I couldn't save you. I'm not a hero. Even heroes couldn't save you." I scoffed at the irony of it.

"But I'm your _sister_. I'm a _doctor_. I'm supposed to _save_ you. But I can't…I couldn't…" My knees hit the ground and my arms wrapped around the cold stone. "I'm sorry…I'm so, so _sorry_." I closed my eyes as the tears continued falling. "I love you."

I imagined the tombstone as his warm body and I that was holding him one last time. I imagined that the wind whirling around me was his arms embracing me.

But it was all just imagination.

He was gone.

I returned to the capital not long later. I still had a job to go to – my dream job in my dream hospital.

Everything I ever wanted had come true, but I had lost everything along the way. It became pointless. Everything was pointless.

D'Tonkwo was my fire. He was the reason I became a doctor. Without him, my fire was gone.

It didn't take long for me to submit my letter of resignation.

I stayed at home, mostly. People called, but I didn't answer. The pile of letters grew, all unopened.

The life I had tried so hard to build for myself was crumbling into pieces. And I let it. That life was meaningless. I would have found a more meaningful one, if I only knew how.

Time went on without me, and so did the world.

D'Tonkwo was dead, and so was the world.

Eventually everyone gave up on me.

Except T'Challa.

He came by my house one day. "I know you're in there," he called out, thumping on my door.

I knew he was a stubborn man. I knew he wouldn't leave until I at least showed my face. "What?" I demanded, throwing open the door.

His eyes glossed over me. "I was about to ask how you were, but I already know the answer."

"I'm fine." I closed the door, but he pushed it open and let himself in. He looked around at my previously spotless apartment which had turned into a dump.

"You can't keep living like this, D'Taya." I remained silent. "You can't let this loss change you." His gaze was fixed on me, but I refused to look up. "You're stronger than this. And you're not alone in this. I'm here for you."

Like hell he was. Like hell he knew the agony I felt every single second of the day. "Get out."

I heard him sigh. "I'm leaving for Vienna tonight."

I willed my face to remain stoic. "How long will you be gone?" I told myself that I didn't care, but I knew that I did. T'Challa was my friend, no matter what.

"I don't know. It's the signing of the Sokovia Accords, and these events can take some time." I nodded dumbly. "I'm doing this for you, you know. D'Tonkwo's death might have been prevented if the Avengers were supervised."

Bullshit. "The Accords won't bring him back."

T'Challa sighed. "I know. But maybe it can save some other people." He laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I want to be here for you. I really do. But I have to do this. I'll be back as soon as I can. Answer my calls this time."

I blinked a few times. "No promises." I didn't make promises anymore. I didn't know if I could keep them.

He didn't seem satisfied, but I supposed he knew that was all he was going to get from me. "I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye." I learnt my lesson. I learnt to say goodbye when I could, because I never knew when I wouldn't get the chance to.

"Goodbye, D'Taya." He leaned in and kissed my cheek. Then he turned around and walked away.

The news came a few days after.

An explosion.

King T'Chaka dead.

My only thought was that I wasn't alone in this. T'Challa knew.

He knew the pain.

The suffering.

The anger.

The bitterness.

The emptiness.

His father meant the world to him, just as D'Tonkwo meant the world to me.

Somehow I found comfort in the fact that someone might know the torture I was in.

It wasn't right to feel like that. But I felt it anyway.

Was I a terrible person?

Probably.

I sighed and went to sleep.

And I was asleep when my phone began ringing loudly. I wanted to ignore it, but if I didn't answer, the person might continue calling.

"Hello?" I put my phone to my ear.

"D'Taya?"

"T'Challa." I let out a breath. There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to offer my condolences, to try to give him comfort, like he gave me. I wanted to invite him over, to drink together or cry together. Instead, I remained silent.

"I'm sorry for calling you at this hour, but I need your help. It's important."

* * *

 _note: And now we've come a full circle. Which means that this story is coming to an end. Next chapter will be the last chapter, and things will finally be tied up. Sorry if you guys found it a little dark, and to those who expected darker - the rating on this story is K+ so I had to tone things down a little. I quite enjoyed writing D'Taya's darker/depressed side so please do let me know if you enjoyed reading it._

 _Final installment will be on Saturday, as scheduled. 'Til then!_


	11. 11 - A Chance

_note: I know this is a day late, and I'm really sorry about that. Hopefully this final chapter makes up for that. Enjoy!_

* * *

 _Chapter 11 - Present_

"Is that her?" Bucky glances at the tablet Captain Rogers holds out to him.

Captain Rogers nods. "Tania Belinsky, one of the best neurobiologists in the world. Romanoff's already on her way to bring her to New York." Captain Rogers reaches out to grab his shoulder. "She's going to save you, Buck."

Bucky nods and smiles at him, and I can't help but smile too, from my position in the corner of the room. I know I'm not meant to be part of the conversation, but I'm too curious to leave.

"D'Taya," T'Challa calls. My head snaps up and I see three pairs of eyes on me. "Could you check that Sergeant Barnes is fit to leave?"

I nod and walk away, with Bucky following behind me. This is probably a way for T'Challa to talk to Captain Rogers about something important, without Bucky and me in the room.

I feel Bucky's eyes on me as I walk over to the controls and start the machine which monitors his vitals. He remains still as the scanner proceeds to scan him. Immediately, results begin to show. Body temperature, metabolism rate, blood pressure, resting potential – everything I need to know to ensure he's healthy enough to leave.

We don't speak while I conduct the rest of the tests. Admittedly, I'm taking my time. It might just be the last time I spend time with him, or even see him.

"I am happy for you," I say, offering conversation. I glance up and see him nod at my words. "Captain Rogers is a good friend."

He doesn't respond with anything other than a nod. He looks at me. "Why did you help me?" he asks.

I clear my throat. "I am a doctor. It is my job."

"No. Doctors don't disobey orders to help their patients escape."

"I…" I sigh. If it's my last time speaking to him, I might as well tell him the truth. "I failed someone. I said I would save them, but I could not." I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "I thought if I could help you, I would not be so…so bad a person."

"You're not a bad person."

"Neither are you." I look away and stop the conversation before I blurt out my life story. I'm sure he doesn't really care, anyway.

I keep my eyes on the medical equipment even though I feel his on me. I stare at the results of all the tests I conducted. Physically, he's fine, but mentally and emotionally, he isn't. I know he isn't my responsibility anymore, but I can't help feeling responsible. Perhaps I'm the one who's crazy for developing this sense of attachment to this detached soldier. Another mistake to add to my collection. I sigh and face him. "You are fit to go."

"Thank you." He stands up. He offers me a small smile and my heart begins beating a little harder. In one swift movement, I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek gently.

"Good luck." I turn my back towards him and start to clear up. He doesn't move for a moment. Then I hear the shuffling of footsteps out of the room.

I let out a shaky breath once he's gone. I can't believe I just did that. And I can't believe he just let me.

I pack all the things in the lab, ensuring that everything is in its place. I don't need to, but I have a strong urge to keep busy, to keep moving. It's a feeble attempt to ensure my heart doesn't sink too deep.

"Doctor." I jump, startled, and nearly drop the blood pressure machine in my hands. I spin around to see Captain Rogers by the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but if I could have a word."

I nod and put the machine on the table. "Of course."

He takes a few steps into the room. "I want to thank you. For taking care of Bucky."

I smile. "I…" What could I say? That I care for him more than a doctor should for her patient? "I did what any other doctor would."

He nods, and I can almost see the gears in his head moving. "I've only been here an hour or so, and I've already heard quite some impressive things about you. My team could use skills like yours."

He's offering me a job, a chance to join his team of superheroes, a chance to help the world. But leave Wakanda? And go to America? I've never been out of my country, nevermind another continent. What kind of perils does that land have? Would the others accept me? Could I survive there? I'd have to learn medical terms in English. I'd have to understand the culture in America.

There are so many reasons to decline, to stay here in Wakanda, with my family and my friends.

But then there's Bucky. I would dedicate my life to helping that man if I could. And maybe I can, with this chance. Maybe I can make good on my promise to D'Tonkwo by doing good for Bucky.

The Captain clears his throat. "I'll leave you to think about it."

"I accept," I blurt out unthinkingly.

I can immediately see the change in his expression to one of happiness. "I'm real glad to hear you say that, Doctor. You're a great addition to the team." He grins at me and pats my shoulder.

I just hope I made the right decision.

T'Challa walks me to the jet. Captain Rogers and Bucky are already inside, packing the equipment T'Challa's allowing us to bring along.

"I'm glad you're going with them," T'Challa comments. "I think it'll help you."

I sigh lightly, slightly apprehensive but excited. "I think so too. This might be my chance to make up for what I couldn't do." I think of D'Tonkwo.

"You don't have to make up for anything."

"Yes I do." I answer in a heartbeat.

He shakes his head. "You always had such a big-sister complex."

"It's just…I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to help people."

"You already have. And you're going to help a lot more."

We stop a short distance from the door to the jet.

"I'll miss you," I admit.

He lays a gentle hand on my cheek. "You'll be fine." He doesn't say it, but I know he'll miss me too.

I smile and hug him tightly. He kisses the top of my head. There's so much I haven't said to him, but I get the feeling he already knows. I don't know when I'll see him again. I don't know _if_ I'll see him again. The last time we said goodbye, his father got blown up. What if it's him this time? I hug him a little tighter.

He pulls away lightly. "If you ever need anything, you call, okay?"

"Okay." I nod, and I can't help but smile. "Goodbye, T'Challa."

"Goodbye, D'Taya." He kisses my cheek one last time before I turn to step into the jet.

It doesn't take long before we're in the air.

Captain Rogers is piloting the vehicle, and Bucky and I are sitting next to each other in the cramped jet. I look out the window at the vast expanse of green. The facility I was at was nothing more than a dot on the horizon, and my country one of the many in the world. There is still so much to see, and so much that I don't know. So much that I _want_ to know.

The Panther God led me on this path for a reason. Being a doctor. Meeting T'Challa. D'Tonkwo's death.

And Bucky. Bucky was placed in my life for a reason. I'm slowly starting to understand what it is.

I don't know how I didn't see it before. Over the past few weeks, I found my fire again, and I found it in Bucky.

All I ever wanted was a chance to help people.

Maybe he's meant to prove that anyone has a chance at redemption. Even him; even me.

Maybe I'm meant to save him, but maybe he's meant to save me.

Maybe we're meant to save each other.

I'd like to say that I was the hero, the one who helped Bucky, the one who had given him a chance.

But really, it was the other way around.

* * *

 _note: And so we've finally gotten to the end of the story._

 _Admittedly, I haven't written a multi-chapter story in quite some time so sorry if it sucked and I hope you guys enjoyed it._

 _And since it's the last time I'm going to be addressing you lovely readers using the platform of this story, time for some acknowledgements and shout-outs:_

 _To the reviewers of this story – thank you for sharing your opinions of this piece of work with me and for always inspiring me to continue writing. A special shout-out to Kimberly and Armand for being my most consistent reviewers!_

 _To the favs/followers of this story – thank you for showing your support and appreciation for the story._

 _To the readers - thank you for finishing this story (I'm assuming you have because you've all reached this far). I sincerely hope you've enjoyed D'Taya's journey during her time with Bucky._

 _I'm a strong believer in the fact that there's a part of D'Taya in each person and one way or another, we're like her. I hope you're able to empathise with her and her plight. She can make some questionable decisions and she's far from perfect._

 _But in a way, aren't we all?_

 _I guess don't have very much to say so thank you all for reading and I hoped you enjoyed the story!_

 _Please do leave a review if you like the story, and even if you haven't, I really do love feedback in any way so leave your thoughts and comments so that I can improve as a writer because I very much want to._

 _I've loved writing this story, and my only wish is that you enjoy reading it._

 _Signing off,_

 _DBT_

 _(and we finally reach the end of the credits)_

* * *

We've been flying for a few hours now. I glance over at Bucky. He's looking out the window at the other end.

I glance down at the mechanical arm dangling from the left side of his body.

In a moment of impulsivity, I reach out and clasp his metal hand with mine.

He sharply turns to face me, a surprised look on his face. I know he's expecting me to explain myself.

"Sorry. I want to check if you can feel touch." I reckon I would have sounded far more sophisticated if I spoke in Wakandan. I have no idea what motor receptors and nerve simulations are in English.

I can tell he doesn't believe me, and I don't blame him. If I were him, I wouldn't believe me either.

I smile at him and he returns his gaze back to the scenery of the sky and clouds outside his window.

But I don't pull away.

And he doesn't either.


End file.
